


Six Ways from Sunday

by Phoebeonthephone



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bare Bottom Spanking, Body Piercing, Denial, Edging, F/M, Fdom, Fsub, Like, Msub, Nipple Licking, Other, Safewords, Sex in a Church, Spanking, Switching, Teasing, baptismal font is not for bathing, barehanded spanking, blasphemous mixing of protestant and catholic paraphernalia, blowjob, body parts mentioned but gender isn't, cocktease, corruption of innocent bible verses, defiling holy ground, improper use of the eucharist, kinky confession, look i'm just super into spanking all right?, mdom, merciless denial, pierced nipples, ruler spanking, spanked by the priest except not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:35:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26132032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoebeonthephone/pseuds/Phoebeonthephone
Summary: A switch couple sneaks into a vacant church and does a lot of sacriligious naked playtime.
Kudos: 4





	Six Ways from Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first ever full-length short story. I didn't even mean to write erotica--this started just as me listing several ways I wanted to 'play' with somebody in a church, but my descriptions got longer and more detailed until I realized 'holy shit I'm writing erotica aren't I'.

Six ways from Sunday

We sneak into the church on a Tuesday afternoon and head straight up to the choir balcony. I turn to you.  
“Neither of us is allowed to touch ourselves, right? No matter what, we can only touch each other, not ourselves.” We talked about this before leaving our house, but I want to make extra sure we’re both still game for the plan.  
You’re excited about this afternoon too. “Yes, absolutely! And if anything gets to be too much for either of us, we have our safewords.”  
“Good! Now, lie down and let’s get to fornicating!” We’ve been saving our sexual energy all week, anad I’m dying to play with you.

Never one to be told twice, you lie down on the floor, and I start taking your pants off, murmuring: “And it shall be, when he lieth down, that thou shalt mark the place where he shall lie, and thou shalt go in, and uncover his feet, and lay thee down; and he will tell thee what thou shalt do.” That Ruth in the story wasn’t nearly as chaste as the Sunday school teachers say; ‘feet’ was often used in ancient times as a euphemism for ‘penis’.

Having uncovered your ‘feet’, I lower my head between your bare thighs and begin to suck your cock. You close your eyes and sigh, moaning as I slowly lick over your balls and all the way up the underside of your shaft, then swirl my tongue around the head of your cock, but our afternoon has only started, so after a few minutes, I stop and pull you to your feet before you can finish.  
“Please let me come,” you plead. You’re so hot when you beg, though you know I’m not going to let you off that easy.  
“Oh you already know we have a nice long afternoon ahead of us before I let you come.” I grin.  
You take your shirt off, dropping it beside your abandoned trousers, your naked body following my clothed one as we head down the stairway into the main sanctuary.

\---------------------------------------

You find the bottle of cheap ‘consecrated’ wine stashed inside the lectern, looking at me with a gleam in your eye as you unscrew the top. I pull my shirt up over my head and toss it onto the table covered in flowers, candles, pictures of saints, and the box containing the rest of the Eucharist. Fooling around in church still feels deliciously forbidden, even though we both left our god-beliefs behind a long time ago. 

I unclasp my bra and hang it on one of the really tall candlesticks that only get lit for vigils and baptisms, looking in your eyes as I reveal my breasts. The barbells adorning my nipples gleam in the afternoon light that filters through the stained glass windows.  
I take your hand holding the wine, and tip the bottle toward my chest, pouring the dark liquid over my breasts. Your dick stiffens even more than before, and your eyes widen in desire at the sight. As you bring your face to my chest, I proclaim: “This is my body, pierced for you. This is my blood, shed for you. Drink this in remembrance of me.” I lay my hands on your head and bury my fingers in your hair while you lick the wine from between my breasts and off my nipples. 

After you’ve tasted your fill, you take my hand and we pour wine on your bare chest, repeating the process just performed on me. “This is my body, pierced for you. This is my blood, shed for you. Drink this in remembrance of me,” you say. I eagerly lick the wine off your chest, sliding my tongue around your nipples, between the metal rings and your flesh, just as you did for me moments earlier. There is a quiet humming from deep in your chest, which I echo with a sigh. Little rivulets of wine make their way down your belly.

\---------------------------------------

I fill the baptismal pool for us. Why let a glorified big bathtub go to waste, used only for occasional quick dunks of performative faith?  
“I’ve always wanted to bathe in one of these,” I say, turning off the taps. I straighten up, dropping my wine-stained skirt and panties to the floor, and turn to you, holding out my hand. 

“We will wash our bodies in water and be renewed in our minds,” we intone together, in our best culty voices. Hands joined, we step into the clear water.  
We slide our hands over each others’ naked bodies, washing off the wine. I allow your hands and mouth to linger on my breasts, but when they move in the direction of my vulva, I push you away, saying “Enter not into the holy place, yea, set neither foot nor hand nor any other part of thyself into the holy of holies, except it be the time that thou art called.” I run my hands greedily over your body, making full eye contact as I drag my fingertips lightly across your penis, over and over, until I have you moaning and gasping. 

Then I step out of the water and go in search of a towel, leaving you alone with your unsatisfied arousal. I return with two white robes, handing one to you as you emerge from the pool.

\---------------------------------------

After we dry off, we move on to the confessional, really just a wooden booth bisected by a thick curtain, with a chair on each side.  
“Bless me father, for I have sinned,” I pretend to confess. “It has been all of the times since my last confession.”  
“What is this sin, my child?”  
“I have misused the Holy Eucharist—“ I reach through the curtain and beneath your robe, and lay my hand on your thigh “—I have desecrated the house of God in multiple ways—“ I slide my palm up to your eager cock “...and I’m not sorry.” I take my time stroking you, savoring your moans and unsteady breathing. When I feel you approaching the point of no return, I take my hand away, your groan of disappointment pleasing me as much as your moans did. I resume slowly masturbating you, bringing you to the edge again and making you groan. 

“Patience is one of the fruits of the Holy Spirit, Father,” I say, hiding my delight at your frustrated desire. “Oh yes, and one more thing--I have deliberately withheld satisfaction from a man, simply because it pleased me.”  
“These are serious sins you have committed, my child. I cannot grant absolution to you until you have repented.” I can hear you trying to maintain an authoritative tone despite your slightly ragged breath. “But I know how to help you reach repentance.” 

\---------------------------------------

You emerge from behind the curtain, grasp my arm, and pull me to my feet. Your erection is still evident under your robe, but your voice is steady now, and stern. “Come with me.”  
Gently but firmly, you march me down a short hallway into a classroom. You release my arm to fetch a chair down from the stacks of them against the wall, and place it in the center of the room. I begin to realize where this is going.

You grasp my arm again, leading me over to the chair and placing me in front of you as you sit down, and I try to sound apprehensive instead of excited. “Oh Father, you’re not going to spank me, are you? Oh, please don’t spank me!”  
“Tell me, is unrepentance good behaviour or naughty behaviour?” Your voice is calm and steady.  
“Naughty behaviour.” I shift my weight from foot to foot. The ritual of a pre-spanking lecture always makes me squirm in anticipation.  
“Naughty behaviour makes a naughty girl. What happens to naughty girls?”  
“Please don’t make me say it; please can we just get it over with?” I beg. You sit back and wait, looking expectantly up at me until I begin speaking again.  
“Naughty girls get spanked on their bare bottoms.” I try to look at the floor but you lift my chin, making me look you in the face.  
“No mumbling. What happens to naughty girls?”  
I say again, louder this time “Naughty girls get spanked on their bare bottoms.” I want to sink through the floor, and I wonder if it were possible to feel more deliciously humiliated than I am right now.

“I’ve found that a sound spanking on an unrepentant confessee’s bare bottom helps bring about true contrition.” You lift your robe up to your waist so I’ll be lying over your warm bare thighs during my imminent spanking. The sight of your still-raging erection might be comical if I weren’t dripping in arousal. “Now, I want you to ask me for your spanking. I want you to say ‘spank me Father, for I have sinned’ and I want you looking me in the eye when you say it. No mumbling either, or you’ll have to repeat it until I’m satisfied. Do you understand?”  
I nod. Yes, yes it is possible to be more embarrassed than I was a moment ago. This is the worst, most amazing humiliation I’ve ever felt, and I want his hand on my ass NOW. I meet your eye and say “Spank me Father, for I have sinned.”  
You smile.

You reach for the tie of my robe, untying it so the front falls open, pulling me over your lap and raising the hem above my bottom. I gasp at the cool air on my exposed skin.  
You pause for a long moment. You know how anticipation makes me wet, and you have no mercy for the pool already between my legs.  
You open your mouth to speak, but your words don’t come quite as easily now. “There’s a verse in Matthew about repentance and forgiveness, and something about seven times seven--or is it seventy times seven? In any case, you’re getting seventy-seven spanks. After that, we’ll see if you need any more.”  
I begin to beg again. “Please don’t spank me please don’t spank me please don’t sp--” but my pleas are interrupted by your heavy hand smacking my ass. I yelp, but you don’t stop, and we both know I don’t want you to stop, know I love this, need this, that I’d begin and end every day with a red spanked bottom if I could.  
You administer the spanking at a deliberate pace; slow enough that I fully feel every hard smack and have a second to anticipate the next one, but just a touch too fast for the sting of the previous spank to subside before you apply another. 

I can feel your excited cock pressing and occasionally twitching against my bare hip as I eventually start wriggling under your relentless hard hand. You stop for a moment.  
“Naughty girl not holding still for her spanking! Every time you squirm, you’ll get seven extra spanks added to your punishment.”  
I pretend to try to hold still, but when you reach the original seventy-seven, you tell me my spanking isn’t over yet, that I earned an additional twenty-one for wiggling three times. I moan in faux dismay; you know I love when you find excuses to prolong my spanking. These you deliver more quickly, about one per second, all on my sit spots, making me whimper in pain and arousal. I imagine my bottom is magenta like my favorite barbie doll dress, and it feels hot enough to cook pancakes.

Finally you stop, but only to produce a ruler from the pocket of your robe (I guess you must have grabbed it off the desk in the corner when I wasn’t looking) and inform me that I’m getting 12 with the ruler to finish up, all delivered to my sit spots. “And I want you to count and say ‘I repent of my sins’ after each stroke; do you understand?”  
“I understand!” I gasp out.  
You bend over and quietly ask how I’m feeling, and I whisper “green, green, please I’m green.”  
My legs tremble as you lay the ruler against the sensitive crease where ass meets thigh, waiting for you to start spanking, knowing every hard stroke will be on that very spot.

You bring the ruler down hard across my sore bottom.  
“One! I don’t repent of my sins!” If my face weren’t near the floor, he’d see my sly smile. “Two! I don’t repent of my sins!”  
You make no remark on my deviance from your prescribed script, only continue spanking me, hard and steady and slow, over and over, until we reach 12. If we were at home, now is right around when you’d make me sit my bare punished ass on a hard chair, the edge digging into my tender sit spots. But we’re not at home and all the chairs here are cushioned.  
“I can see you need more than just a thorough spanking, and I know what that is. Come with me,” you say, helping me to my feet. 

\---------------------------------------

You lead me back to the sanctuary, where you slide my robe off my shoulders and do the same with yours, leaving us both naked on the supposedly holy ground.  
You lift me up onto the high table in the chancel, sweeping away the flowers and the candlesticks and other useless artifacts of piety, and spreading my legs as you kneel between them. 

“I’m sure there’s some bible verse we could corrupt here..” you murmur against my vulva, your lips brushing against the slick labia.  
“No, fuck that, no bible verses, please please I want your mouth I need your mouth now!” I plead. I feel your lips stretching into a smile, feel your breath on my clit for several moments before you respond.  
“Patience is one of the fruits of the Holy Spirit, my child,” you echo my previous words back to me, and I wonder how long you’ll make me wait for your touch.

You lightly, lazily stroke my hips and lay kisses up my inner thighs, stopping just short of my glistening pussy, making me writhe in desire for more. I don’t know how long you go on like this--it feels like hours but it could be only minutes until I finally feel your mouth on my vulva, your tongue on my clit, kissing, licking, worshiping.  
You take your time getting me close to orgasm, and when I’m close but not quite on the edge yet, you stop. I whimper, but you shush me. 

You get up for a second to put your lips near my ear and speak slowly, so I fully understand what you’re about to do to me. “Because spanking didn’t teach you the lesson you needed to learn, here is what’s going to happen: I am going to tease you. I’m going to tease you a lot. I’m going to tease you to the brink of orgasm, til you’re a split second away from coming, and then I will stop, because you aren’t allowed to come yet. I will tease you to the edge, over and over, twelve times, twelve because some bible shit, and at no point before we reach twelve are you allowed to come--” your voice drops to a purr “--no matter how much you beg.”

I moan my understanding, and you begin to slowly tease me. You get me so teased up and close to the edge before stopping that when you start again, it only takes a flick of your tongue to get me close again. My mind is nothing but unfulfilled desire for satisfaction that’s always just a little out of reach.

When you reach six, you stop for a second and ask again how I’m feeling.  
“Green,” I moan, “Green green greengreengreen please please please please…”  
“I’m glad to hear it. Now, I want you to beg me to continue denying you. Beg me for six more edges.”  
My answering moan is equal parts dismay and arousal. My mind is now nothing but need and desire, both for orgasm and for what you’re doing to me right now. The mindfuck of being instructed to ask for more denial when we both know I’m dying to come, almost sends me right over the edge then and there. By some unholy miracle I'm able to form words. “Please edge me six more times, please deny me pleasedon'tlemecome pleasepleaseplease…”

I feel your lips curve into a smile against my ear. “Since you asked so nicely--” you slide your left hand down my body to cup my vulva “--I will continue teasing you--” you stroke my labia with your slick fingers, carefully avoiding my clit for the moment “--I will continue edging you’--” you gently, rhythmically begin to press on them with the flat of your hand, indirectly stimulating the clit underneath “--and I will continue denying you--” your lips break contact with my ear as you move your head back down my body “--six more times, and you’re not allowed to come until after all six, when I’m inside you.” 

Then your mouth is on my pussy again, your tongue exploring and thrusting into my dripping entrance your fingers splayed against my lower belly as you lightly stroke your thumb against me. Your face is wet from my prolonged excitement as you raise your mouth to my clit again, flicking your tongue just right, and I’m already incredibly close yet again. You flick and stop, flick and stop, again and again, teasing me without mercy. You keep track of how many times you’ve brought me to the edge and denied me; I wouldn’t be able to count even if you ordered me to. 

Time has no meaning anymore. I could have been lying on this table for hours or days or only minutes since you started edging me, but however long it’s been, you finally stop teasing me longer than a couple seconds, and stand up.

\---------------------------------------

You climb on top of me and slide your cock inside me, holding my willing hands above my head with one strong arm while your other hand reaches down between our bodies til it finds my clit. As you thrust into me, your cock stroking my g-spot, you rub the length of your finger up and down my clit, and the combined sensations from your finger and your cock send me over the edge. I come hard, my high-pitched cries impossible to mistake for anything other than the sounds of a woman having a powerful orgasm. As my whimpers of ecstasy go on and on, it’s all too much for you, and a moment later, you come. Your restraining arm goes weak. I wrap my now-free arms around your beautiful convulsing body as you moan and gasp out your orgasm and I sigh out the last of mine.

We lie there, naked on the ceremonial table we just defiled, slowly stroking each others’ bodies while our brain functions gradually resume their normal routine.  
I draw in a breath that’s finally mostly steady. I squeeze your ass and laugh a little.“So, same time, same place next week?” 

\---------------------------------------

The End


End file.
